


Prayer for a Duck

by starbucks_stucky



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, I imagined Jaskier as Pippin and this is what happened, M/M, Musicals, Theatre AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbucks_stucky/pseuds/starbucks_stucky
Summary: His eyes linger on Geralt and his grin grows a little wider. If Geralt was the type to do so, he might have blushed.“You’re blushing,” Ciri whispers.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 19
Kudos: 134





	1. “And There He Was”

**Author's Note:**

> This an incredibly self-indulgent theatre AU born from my belief that Joey Batey NEEDS to play Pippin right now.
> 
> Title is a song from Pippin which is kinda sad but makes me laugh every time.

Geralt _hates_ auditions. Yennefer tells him that he has no good reason to, but he does. In fact, he made a list:

 **1\. So. Many. Bad. Auditions**.

The most obvious. Granted, this is community theatre; he doesn’t expect Broadway excellence. But he is continually amazed by the sheer amount of people in this town who can’t carry a tune.

**2\. Too many good performers and not enough roles.**

Converse to his first reason, Geralt always ends up feeling terrible for the talented people who show out and are rewarded only with rejection. He’s been involved with theatre since he was a child, and seeing the disappointment never gets any easier.

**3\. He is not a people person.**

Geralt is well aware that this is not a desired trait in someone in theatre, but he builds sets. The only people he usually needs to interact with are the director and his assistants. He only designs sets for Yennefer, because he considers her a friend (or as close as one can get to being friends with her), and his assistants are his brothers. It works.

He presented his list to Yennefer when she once again insisted that he needed to be with her at the production table during the auditions for _Pippin_.

It absolutely does not work.

“I am in agony.”

Yennefer manages to glare at him out of the corner of her eye without alerting the current auditionee to the nature of the conversation happening at the table. Ciri snickers on her other side.

“I design sets Yen. You don’t need me to tell you how abysmal this guy is.”

He’s not wrong. The man currently murdering “With You” had arrogantly introduced himself as Valdo Marx, and even without the awful vibrato, Geralt knows Yen won’t cast him as Pippin. They had all seen the way he’d treated the accompanist, Triss, acting holier than thou and showing absolutely no respect. Yen doesn’t tolerate asshole actors, and he’d sealed his fate before he’d even opened his mouth.

“We have to give them all a chance,” Yennefer growls. “We’re low on eligible guys, as usual.” Most community theatre’s stuggle to find talented young men for leading roles, and The Posada Playhouse is no different.

Valdo finally, _blessedly,_ finishes his cut with an irritating and cocksure bow.

“Thank you,” Yennefer calls, sounding cordial enough, but Geralt can tell she doesn’t mean it. “We’ll let you know as soon as we’re finished if we need you for a callback, and the cast list will be on the website tomorrow.” Valdo smirks and swaggers out after grabbing his sheet music, and Triss shoots them an unimpressed look with a raise of her eyebrows. Yennefer sighs, then pulls the last audition sheet closer.

“Last one, and he better be good. None of these halfwits we’ve seen could carry this show.” She leans back in her chair. “Do you think I made the right choice?”

Geralt just gives a noncommittal hum, but Ciri speaks up.

“You gotta trust your judgement, Yen. _Pippin_ was an...ambitious choice, yes, but ambitious is what this place needs if we’re ever gonna see any growth!”

“Or get more donations,” Geralt adds. He really could use updates on some of his equipment. Yennefer nods, then nods again with more conviction as their words sink in.

“Okay, last up is Jaskier Pankratz. Let’s hope for his sake that he doesn’t give me a reason to punch him. I’d like to save that honor for Mr. Marx.” Ciri laughs as she gets up to call the last auditionee in. Geralt simply snorts.

“Mr. Pankratz, we’re ready for you now.” Ciri holds the door open as a young man in his mid-twenties makes his way confidently to the stage. Geralt is...intrigued.

He’s tall, almost as tall as Geralt himself from what he can tell, but much leaner. His brown hair is tousled without looking unkempt, and Geralt can see the startling blue of his eyes all the way from the production table. 

He is, in a word, pretty.

“Well, he certainly looks like a Pippin,” Yennefer whispers. The three of them watch as he gives his sheet music to Triss, politely showing her what he has in mind and smiling when she nods. He makes his way to center stage and smiles at them.

“Hello! My name is Jaskier Pankratz, auditioning for the role of Pippin. I will be singing ‘Corner of the Sky’.” He gives a little nod to Triss, then slips into character; an excited young man looking to find his place in the world.

Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri all watch with rapt attention. He’s _good_ ; subtle and nuanced, but his expressions can easily be read all the way up in the balcony. He finishes all too soon, effortlessly hitting the last high note and holding it beautifully. Yennefer has a deeply pleased look on her face, and Ciri actually claps, audition etiquette be damned.

“That was lovely, Mr. Pankratz,” Yennefer calls. Jaskier nods gratefully, hands clasped behind his back. Geralt traces the lines of his body with his eyes, taking in the high-waisted black pants and the short-sleeved button up dotted with little yellow flowers. He thinks they’re buttercups. 

“We just need a bit of time to deliberate, then we’ll let everyone know who we need for callbacks,” Yennefer tells Jaskier, and Geralt can tell by the sound of her voice that there won’t actually be any deliberation happening after this.

“Thank you all so much for your time,” Jaskier says. His eyes linger on Geralt and his grin grows a little wider. If Geralt was the type to do so, he might have blushed.

“You’re blushing,” Ciri whispers as they watch Jaskier gather up his sheet music and leave the auditorium with a final smile.

“I don’t blush,” he growls, blushing even more when the girls laugh at him.

“Well, it’s clear that Geralt is on board, and so am I. Fuck callbacks, he’s it,” Yennefer says, gathering all the other audition sheets and handing them to Ciri to put in the trash. “Sure makes my job a whole lot easier.” Triss makes her way over as she finishes putting her things in her bag.

“Please tell me you’re casting him. He is the most respectful actor I’ve ever met.” She looks at each of them. “Seriously, he thanked me. Twice.”

“Way better than that Valdo asshole,” Ciri says. Geralt fights the urge to call her on her language. He still can’t believe she isn’t the scared middle-schooler wanting to join the set crew anymore; she’s now a young woman with a technical theatre degree and one of the best damn stage managers he’s ever seen.

Yennefer tucks Jaskier’s audition sheet into her binder with the rest of the chosen cast.

“Alright,” she says as she snaps the binder closed. “Time to face the masses.” The four of them gather up their things, and Geralt breaks down the table.

“I’ll bring this back to the shop and meet you guys outside.” The girls call an affirmative as they leave, ready to let the auditionees go.

Geralt carries the table back to the scene shop, reveling in the quiet. He feels most at home among the half-finished sets and tools, and enjoys the solitude it brings him. None of the actors ever really come back here; he only sees Eskel and Lambert regularly because they work there. Yen and Ciri come by once in a while to check on their progress, but leave the designs up to him. He appreciates it.

He puts the table in one of the storage closets, dusting off his hands as he leaves. He’s closing the door behind him when he’s startled by a melodic, “Oh!” He spins around, and is surprised to see none other than Jaskier standing in the doorway.

“Well, this certainly isn’t the restroom.” He steps further into the large room, taking everything in with childlike curiosity.

“I take it this is your domain?” Jaskier asks. Geralt can’t think of anything to say (he rarely can), so he just hums in what he hopes is a pleasant and affirmative manner. He’s not sure he succeeds, but Jaskier just smiles at him. 

“Not much for conversation, I see. That’s alright.” He sidles closer. “I do like how you just stand in the corner and,” he searches for the right word. “Brood.”

Geralt blinks. Is Jaskier _flirting_ with him?

“You have a beautiful voice,” he blurts, then immediately looks away in embarrassment. He certainly meant it, but he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “Sorry, uhm, I’m not great at the whole...talking thing. ‘S why I stay backstage.” When he glances back at Jaskier, the shorter man is positively beaming.

“Well, I’d say you’re doing a fine job, darling.” Even Geralt can’t deny the fact that he’s blushing now. Jaskier’s face softens.

“Thank you, though, it truly does mean a lot.” He gently touches Geralt’s arm as he says it, and the point of contact is the only thing Geralt can focus on.

“Well, I probably should find the bathroom before I go home and worry about the cast list for the next twelve hours.” He shrugs, as if to say ‘What can you do?’, and finally moves away. Geralt wants to tell him that the bathroom is right next door and that he has no reason to worry, but his brain is still a string of exclamation points from Jaskier touching him.

The other man makes it to the door when he suddenly turns to face Geralt again, who has failed to move an inch.

“I never caught your name,” he says, blue eyes sparkling as they meet Geralt’s own. 

“Geralt,” he replies, more muscle memory than anything else. Jaskier’s eyes crinkle as he smiles.

“Well _Geralt_ , I hope I’ll be seeing more of you soon.” Geralt just nods and, with a final wink, Jaskier is gone.


	2. "Extraordinary"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy y'all are excited for this story! I hope it doesn't disappoint!
> 
> This chapter was really fun to write :)

Geralt mildly enjoys the rehearsal process. Mostly because he doesn't have to actively participate. Or participate at all.

Normally, he spends the entirety of each rehearsal in the shop, only doing the work he needs to onstage after everyone has gone home. And he _never_ watches.

Well, at least he used to.

"Fancy seeing you here." Geralt jumps and whips his head around to glare at Renfri, who just smiles sweetly at him. "Enjoying the show?"

Geralt is, in fact, enjoying himself, as he does whenever Jaskier does, well, anything.

He's willing to admit he's got a bit of a problem.

"He's amazing," Renfri says, following Geralt's gaze and watching as Jaskier runs through a scene with Vesemir, playing Charlamagne. "He gives so much in every scene; it's so easy to act against him."

"'M sure it's easy to kiss him too," Geralt grunts. Renfri laughs.

"Yeah, that too. Though, he's almost too polite about it, says he would hate to make me uncomfortable." Her eyes flick over to him. "You jealous?"

Geralt forces himself not to blush. He's been doing too much of that lately. But, because he's known Ren for years and he trusts her, he answers honestly.

"A little." Renfri slips her arm through his and leans her head on his shoulder.

"Well, you can breathe easy, big guy, this will not be turning into a showmance. Jaskier is incredibly sweet, but not my type." She lifts her head and pats his bicep. "Besides, I have a sneaking suspicion his interest lies elsewhere." Before Geralt can ask her what she means, Yennefer calls all the actors to the stage to go over the finale.

"That's my cue!" Renfri moves away. "See you later, Wolfie!" Geralt groans at the childhood nickname.

"Please stop calling me that!"

~

"Can you pass me the drill?" Lambert asks. Geralt does, not looking up from a sketch he’s reworking. Truth be told, he’s thinking about the conversation he had with Jaskier earlier, during the rehearsal break. He’d been on his way to the shop to continue building with Lambert and Eskel when the other man had stopped him with a smile and an offer of a chocolate-chip granola bar. Geralt had accepted easily, complimenting Jaskier on his scenes. His remarks were waved off, though Jaskier made sure to thank him. It was stupidly endearing how genuinely surprised the young man was whenever someone complimented him, as if he wasn’t the most talented individual to come through the theatre in the past five years.

Geralt was even more impressed when Jaskier inquired after the set building and displayed some introductory knowledge on the subject.

(“I took stagecraft in college. The math was easy enough, but the only tool I could really be trusted with was a paint brush.”)

Geralt was already crushing, he could admit it, but learning that Jaskier was not only a good actor, but had a respect for the other aspects of theatre made him fall a little bit more.

“Uh, Geralt? Are you feeling okay?” Geralt is broken out of his thoughts by Lambert speaking yet again.

“Yeah, why?” Lambert and Eskel share a look.

“Because I asked for a drill and you handed me a tape measure?” Geralt scrambles to hand him the correct tool, grumbling an apology as his brothers laugh.

“It’s okay, Ger-Bear. We all know you were busy thinking about your little songbird,” Eskel says. He and Lambert make kissy faces at each other as Geralt bangs is head on the table.

“I hate all of you,” he says. “First Renfri, now you two.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it, little bro.” Lambert pats him on the back. “It’s actually kinda sweet how much you like him.” Geralt lifts his head to give him a half-hearted glare, but he doubts it has the desired effect. Eskel moves around the work bench to sit next to them, opening a bottle of water and swallowing some down.

“Have you asked him out yet?” Eskel asks. Geralt shakes his head, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table.

“I honestly can’t get a read on his interest. He’s really friendly with everyone, so who the hell knows how he feels about me?”

“I know how you can find out,” Lambert says. Geralt perks up

“How?” Lambert leans in conspiratorially.

“You ask him.” Geralt punches him in the arm while Eskel snorts, water coming out of his nose.

“You’re an ass!”

“At least I _have_ an ass!”

“Am I interrupting something?” Three heads turn toward the shop door. Jaskier is standing there, bag in hand and smiling at the antics he’s stumbled upon.

“And here’s the songbird now!” Lambert crows, abandoning the bench to make his way over. “I’m Lambert, and the guy dribbling water over there is Eskel. Geralt’s been telling us all about you and your many talents.”

“Oh, has he now?” Jaskier asks, raising his eyebrows at Geralt in delight. Geralt hums noncommittally, shoving a roll of paper towels in Eskel’s face so he can clean himself up.

“We’ll have to see the show now, just to see the boy wonder who’s got our Geralt all giddy, right Eskel?”

“Okay, that’s enough for today,” Geralt says, pushing Eskel towards Lambert and grabbing both their arms. He turns to Jaskier. “They were just leaving.” He shoves his brothers unceremoniously out the door, ignoring their laughter as he slams it closed. Jaskier grins slyly at him.

“So, you’ve been discussing me?” Geralt gulps.

“Did you need something?” He tries for nonchalant, but his voice is strained. Jaskier narrows his eyes playfully, but lets it go.

“Nothing in particular, just wanted to see if I could be of some assistance. Yennefer said there were some sets to be painted, and you may remember that I have a bit of an eye for such things.” Geralt smiles as Jaskier waggles his eyebrows. This man has made him soft.

“I’m sure I’ve got some trees around here you can start on.” He walks off to grab them, suppressing a chuckle when Jaskier proclaims, “My specialty!”

He lays two of the tree cut-outs on a tarp, then heads to the paint closet to get supplies. At the last moment, he grabs one of the ratty tee-shirts he keeps for such occasions and brings it along with the paint, stirrers, and brushes. He tosses it at Jaskier as he sets everything down. Jaskier holds it questioningly until Geralt says, “Can’t risk damaging the wardrobe.” Jaskier smiles and pulls it over his head. It’s old, stretched out, and Geralt swallows hard at the sight of Jaskier wearing something that’s _his_.

“Should’ve known you’d be a Queen fan,” the younger man says, holding the tee-shirt away from his body and admiring the design. At Geralt’s questioning glance, he points to his hair. “You’d fit right in.”

Geralt just looks at him, then starts to laugh. He misses Jaskier’s triumphant smile.

“So, how do you know Lambert and Eskel?” Jaskier asks, opening a paint can and stirring it smooth.

“They’re my brothers,” Geralt says, sitting near a tree of his own. He doesn’t particularly enjoy painting, but he wants to stay close to Jaskier.

Sue him.

“You don’t look very much alike.” Geralt shrugs, not looking up.

“We’re not technically related.” A pause. “We grew up together. In a group home,” he says. He can tell Jaskier is looking at him, but he focuses resolutely on the leaf he’s painting.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier says with genuine sympathy. Geralt catches his gaze expecting pity, but there’s only a soft fondness in Jaskier’s very blue eyes. “I’m glad you had each other.”

“Honestly, we were some of the lucky ones. We were fairly well cared for, and most of the volunteers actually tried to get us involved in the community. Vesemir is the whole reason I got into set design.” Jaskier’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Vesemir, really?” Geralt chuckles.

“He acts tough, but he’s really a big softie,” Geralt says, and Jaskier grins.

“Sounds like someone else I know.” He winks, laugh echoing around the room when Geralt grumbles in response.

~

“Well, I’d say these are two of the best looking trees this side of the Continent!” Jaskier says, hands on his hips. “Though I think mine may be just a little bit better.” Geralt scoffs, mock-glaring at the shorter man. There’s a smudge of green paint on his left cheek.

“It’s alright, darling, you’ll improve.” Jaskier pats his arm. Before he can stop himself, Geralt reaches up to thumb away the paint. Jaskier stills, letting Geralt rub gently under his eye until his cheek is clean. Geralt continues to cup his face, unable to look away.

“You had, uh-”

“Thank you,” Jaskier interrupts, slowly bringing a hand up to Geralt’s chest and lightly touching the medallion hanging there.

“What’s this?” He whispers. Geralt steps even closer, eyes focused on the alluring movement of Jaskier’s lips.

“A gift from Vesemir. We all got one when we graduated high school.” They’re leaning into each other now, and all Geralt can smell is teakwood and lilac. It’s as intoxicating as Jaskier’s smile.

“Shall I start calling you White Wolf, then?” Jaskier asks, eyes never leaving Geralt’s mouth. Geralt growls, moving to close the distance between them.

“Geralt, do you have the castle plans? I need to change - oh.” Yennefer stands just inside the door, eyes flitting between the two men. Geralt quickly steps back. “Sorry if I interrupted.”

“Nonsense, it’s about time I get going anyway,” Jaskier says. He grabs his bag from the work bench, picking up Geralt’s careful sketches for the castle set as well.

“Actually, Jask, there’s a couple of things I wanted to talk to you about before you leave. Mind walking me to my car?” Jaskier nods. He turns to Geralt before he goes, who is fiddling with his medallion. It’s still warm. Jaskier reaches for Geralt’s hand, squeezing it softly.

A promise of what’s to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter will be up in the next few days!
> 
> (I also took Stagecraft in college, but unlike Jaskier, I couldn’t do the math to save my life. I was pretty handy with a buzz saw though!)


	3. "Finale"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short finale for you all, I hope you enjoy!

Geralt likes opening nights.

The energy is always great, excitement and nerves buzzing around backstage. The magic of a curtain going up for the first time on a show that has involved so much hard work never goes away. He could do without the obligatory dressing up, but it's much easier to do when you have someone you want to dress up for.

A low whistle pierces the quiet of the shop as Geralt tightens a final bolt on a broken wheel (another opening night tradition. There's always something that needs to be fixed). Geralt looks up and smirks at Jaskier in all his costumed glory.

"You look unfairly handsome," Jaskier says, crossing his arms and pouting, but his eyes are twinkling. Geralt straightens, tucking his hands in his pockets and looking over Jaskier with an appreciative eye.

"I could say the same about you." That makes Jaskier smile, a light blush on his cheeks.

After their almost kiss, their conversations and interactions had definitely taken on a more flirtatious tone, but no other opportunity had arisen. Besides, now that he knows his feelings are returned, Geralt wants their first kiss to be special.

He's really going soft.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in something patterned. Or something not black." Geralt glances down at his outfit: his nicest black jeans, black boots, black blazer, and a maroon shirt with a slightly darker paisley pattern. He owes the outfit choice to Ciri and Yennefer, something about 'adventuring into the wonderful world of color'. It's worth it if Jaskier likes it.

"Ready for the show?" Geralt asks, leaning on the wall next to Jaskier. The other man nods, joining Geralt against the wall and resting his head on the other's shoulder.

"As I'll ever be. I don't think anyone ever feels truly prepared for opening." Geralt nods, humming his approval.

"Is your family coming tonight? I'm sure your parents are excited to see you." Jaskier stiffens against his shoulder, but doesn't move away. Geralt is immediately on high alert.

"Excited is not exactly the word I would use. My parents don't exactly approve of my chosen path in life." Jaskier shrugs. "At least, they didn't. It's been quite some time since I last spoke to them." Geralt brings an arm up to wrap around Jaskier's shoulders and cuddles him a bit closer.

"Well, I'll be there cheering you on, along with everyone else," he says, pressing a kiss to Jaskier's hair. "If it helps." Jaskier chuckles. He turns to face Geralt and brings a hand up cup his cheek.

"My White Wolf, here to save the day," he murmurs, stroking a thumb over Geralt's stubble. Geralt holds his waist.

"Always," he replies, leaning into the other man.

"Did you not hear me call for final notes?" Ciri asks, poking her head through the door and doing an abysmal job of hiding her smirk.

"Fuck," Geralt says leaning his forehead against Jaskier's. "I'm sorry." The younger man, for his part, just laughs.

"Not at all, darling." He leans up on his toes to whisper in Geralt's ear.

"Although, when the show is over, I'm going to kiss you senseless."

Geralt can work with that.

~

The show goes beautifully. To no one's surprise, Jaskier outshines everyone on stage, and receives a well-deserved standing ovation.

Geralt feels so proud, he could burst.

He's waiting outside the dressing room when Jaskier throws the door open, clutching the bouquet of roses and daisies that Geralt had left for him at his station.

"You sentimental _bastard_ ," he says, meeting Geralt halfway and making good on his earlier promise. He kisses like he performs; bold and with abandon, and Geralt cherishes every beautiful second.

In the fervor of their kiss, they don't notice as the card Geralt had included flutters to the floor.

_They say the whole is greater_

_Than the sum of the parts it's made of_

_Well if it's true of anything_

_It's true of love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Geralt's note features lyrics to "Love Song" from Pippin!


End file.
